


My Beloved

by natascha_ronin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natascha_ronin/pseuds/natascha_ronin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Killian Jones and Milah visit the East Indies at the beginning of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Beloved

The ship approached Vembanad Lake at dusk, but Milah could hear the drums and see the fires in the distance from the deck of the ship. The air was sticky and hot, even at the late hour. She fanned herself with her hand, and blew her hair out of her face. 

“Well, we made it before nightfall.” Killian approached her right side, his hand tucked into his belt. His eyes looked black, glinting in the firelight from the lanterns on deck, and he was grinning. She’s learned these last six weeks that he has several smiles. Seductive smiles, cunning smiles, dangerous smiles, soft smiles, and sad smiles. This one was new. He was curious about how Milah would like the East Indies, although she was enjoying the voyage on the open sea. He knew the trade route well, and he was eager to show her the exotic parts of the world she had never seen.

“What’s the name of this port again?” She asked, biting her lip. She was keen to learn everything on their adventure, soaking up every piece of information like a sponge. The newness of life at sea felt like it would never wear off. In many ways, however, she was frightened that her own novelty would fade, and Killian would deposit her back in her narrow little life in the Enchanted Forest.

“This would be Cochin, milady,” he answered, sweeping one hand across the port side of the ship and sliding the other around her waist. He looked out over the lights of the city, ancient and burning in a timeless simplicity. He called back to the boatswain, “Simon, med moor us and lay to!” 

“We aren’t going to put into port tonight?” Milah asks him in a low voice. She was still learning maritime terms and she was nervous about the other men hearing her, jeering at her for her ignorance. Killian was the only person on the ship who knew how little education she had, offering her his expanse of books and maps to aid her in her voracious quest for knowledge. He had assured her that any man who sailed under him wouldn’t dare disrespect his honored guest, but years of whispered gossip and teasing about being married to the town coward made her uneasy.

“No, love, we’ll ride at anchor in the bay and dock in the morning. It’s too dark to see Vembanad Lake at night – that’s the bay we just entered – and I don’t want to run the risk of running aground on a sand bar.” He slid his hand up her back and into her hair, sweeping it off her shoulder. His voice dropped to a whisper, “Besides, the air is hot and I’d love a bath.”

She looked out over the bay and back at him, nodding at the unspoken question. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she smirked back at him, peeking through her lashes. She had been uncomfortable with his flirting at first, but as time went by, she grew more familiar with the way he spoke with his eyes, his expressive eyebrows that seemed to have a mind of their own, and his tongue that never stayed behind his lips. He was handsome and young, and she felt out of her depth then, wondering what a man who had everything he wanted could possibly fancy in a woman as plain as herself. 

Killian assured her every day since she joined him on this adventure that for him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He told her that from the first night they met, she captivated him and fascinated him. He told her she was brave to have endured years of abuse from the townspeople on her husband’s behalf, and made her feel important on his ship, giving her small jobs to do and errands to run for the crew. He praised her for her efforts to show the ship’s cook, Blake, new recipes. Killian’s admiration of her never seemed forged. He thanked her for everything she did – from sewing new buttons on the crew’s shirts to repairing the trysail after a storm. 

He led her across the deck of the ship towards their quarters, stopping to order a crewman to have water heated for a hipbath. She went down the ladder and waited for him, still not feeling entirely at home in the room. She looked down at the table littered with drawings – her drawings. Once Killian had learned of her talent for sketching, he gave her all the paper and charcoal she could wish for. She picked up one she had done only that day and closed her eyes, pressing the paper to her lips. It was of Baelfire. She looked down at the lines of his face, his innocent eyes peering back out at her. 

What must he think of me? She wondered as tears flooded her eyes. She had no doubt that Rumple had told Bae that she had died. He was many things, but he wasn’t a cruel man. She worried over him every day. Was he eating enough? Did he sleep well? Would Rumple get up and soothe him during the night when he couldn’t sleep? Not for the first time, she began to panic at the thought of never seeing Bae again. She could hear his voice calling for her that day in the tavern, and she imagined him terrorized by the loss of her, his tears streaming just as hers were. She began to sob, tearing breaths cleaving her chest into pieces. 

What have I done? _WHAT HAVE I DONE???_

Killian descended the steps, his lascivious grin dying on his lips at the sight of his beloved in a heap on the floor, hoarse cries escaping her as her hair billowed around her folded form. He knew at once the cause, and he knelt behind her on the floor, arms circling her shoulders around and thighs bend around hers. 

“Shh, shh, darling,” he whispered, “there there, now.” He combed her hair back with his fingers and rocked them. He remembered his brother doing the same when they were boys. It was the only comfort Killian had then, and he employed it to comfort her now. What would Liam think of his little brother now, a fearsome pirate captain on his knees comforting a woman whose only crime was abandoning her son? He saw her escape of a loveless marriage, of a damned cowardly fool of a husband; of a bleak life out of control…he saw it as brave. Milah had taken a leap of faith and fled a life that he was sure would have led to her ruin.

As he held her and rocked, cooing into her ear and kissing her hair, he remembered those times he would come into port in her village. He didn’t always see her, but, oh, he lived for the times when he did. Sometimes it was just a passing hello, but more frequently he was able to talk her into joining him and his crew in a game of cards or dice. She always looked worn and tired, but he began to see the light in her eyes fade, her voice become quiet and resigned when they would say goodbye. He had worried, as he heard her tell more of her story about her life, if he would come into port and find out that she had gone mad or ended her own life. 

He knew that leaving her son, who he had met only once, was the source of her sadness. She was not sad for her life in the Enchanted Forest, or for her husband whose cowardice had cost her joy and happiness. Baelfire’s abandonment, in his mind, was not a selfish act. Milah felt in poor condition to care for her boy when she was so miserable and depressed, so she felt Rumple would be a better father to him than she would a mother. Even in her hatred of her husband, she would rather not separate him from the son he injured himself and sacrificed his wife’s love to be with. To Killian, Milah was only doing what she felt was best for Bae. 

She had told him of her hatred for her husband. She admitted that she treated him poorly, lashed out in anger at him because she felt she could no longer respect him after what he’d done. When she told Killian of his bargaining their second child away, he had clenched his jaw until he felt his teeth would pop. He felt that a man who would decide how many children his wife would bear was no kind of a man at all. If Milah wanted children in the future, as they had yet to decide, Killian would give her license over her own womb, her own body.

Milah quieted and sank into his arms, and he closed his eyes to hear her shaky breaths and quiet sobs. When his crewman knocked on the door to bring in the hot water for their bath, Killian stood up and pulled Milah against the chest of their bed. He met the crewman outside the door and forbade him entrance, pulling in the copper hipbath himself and filling it with water. He added lavender oil to calm them both, and then helped her to stand. He slowly pried her fingers away from the wadded paper, placing it gingerly on the desk and smoothing it out gently with his hands. He walked behind her and pulled her hair to the side, unlacing her skirts and letting them drop to the floor before turning her around. He cupped her face and pulled her head up, taking in the beautiful mess of her splotched face before wiping her tears away with his thumbs. 

“Let’s have that bath now, shall we?” He asked softly, reaching down to unlace her corset as her eyes met his and she nodded. He pulled the string on her shift and drew her arms up over her head to pull it off, tossing it over the back of the chair behind her. The single lamp burning behind her framed her silhouette, and her chestnut hair covered her breasts. He knelt to remove her bloomers and stockings next, nudging her feet so she could lift them up. He grasped her hand and walked her to the tub, and she sat down. She had stopped sobbing, and now seemed too quiet and exhausted to move.

He pulled open a drawer in the chest under his bookcase and grabbed a cloth, a sliver of soap, and a frayed ribbon. Life on a ship was often crowded, so he had made room for her in his cabin but things were still in odd places. His boots sat next to hers, but her knickers were in a basket over the safe. He chuckled at himself, making a home with a woman on his ship, as he walked over to her and sat down behind the small bath. 

She was still in the same position he left her, arms around her legs, long hair covering her body, toes curled under the shallow water. He nudged her and handed her the soap and washcloth, and that seemed to rouse her from her stupor.

“Thank you,” she rasped. She took in a shaky breath. Not for the first time, she wondered what he must think of her, grieving the loss of a son she had so callously tossed aside. She held the washcloth and soap in her hands, too numb to begin to wash. She felt Killian’s warm hands sweeping her hair back, parting it into sections, and – was he plaiting her hair?

“Killian!” She gasped and turned around, meeting resistance as he tugged on the strands. He finished the long braid, winding the ribbon around with one hand while the other grasped the tail. He tied the ends neatly with a simple bowline knot, and looked up at her with a small smile. She laughed, in spite of her state, and leaned back to kiss him. Her lips met his softly, and she pulled back, whispering, “A man of many talents, you are, my love.”

“I’m just a man,” He rumbled huskily, “a man who’s hopelessly in love with you.” 

“And I love you, Killian,” she answered, “thank you for seeing more in me than I –“ 

“No need, my darling Milah,” he interrupted, reaching up to stroke the back of his hand over her cheek. His gaze turned dark in the dim light and his tongue darted out between his teeth. “Now, should I exhibit my talent for bathing a toothsome woman, or are you going to let me watch?”

~~

“What’s this one?” Milah asked excitedly, pointing to a mound of yellow-colored powder. It was one of many multi-colored heaps of spices on the table. She had never seen so many unique seasonings. The crowd around them was rife with excitement, merchants yelling and monetary amounts being shouted in many languages. Killian insisted on walking on the outside of her, facing the crowd. He kept one hand on her and the other on his sword hilt. The crowd jostled and pushed money and jars of spice back and forth in front of her face. She was excited, but never had she been so overwhelmed in all of her senses. 

“Turmeric!” He yelled over the din. She pinched her fingers in the powder, bringing her now multi-colored hand up to her nose. It smelled musky and savory, but much milder than the curry powders she sampled earlier. It wasn’t strong like the cardamom seeds, but not sweet like the cinnamon twigs or cloves next to it. The merchant looked at her in question and she nodded to Killian while he gave weights and amounts to his chandler behind them. They moved on from that stall to the next, the scent of yeast, grain, cooked meats, and spices thick in the air. The arid climate seemed to grab the essence of everything and hold it in front of their faces. 

She looked at the long, flat pieces of bread hanging from the stall and stacked on the table in front. A man in a robe stood behind the table, turning a piece of the flat bread on top of a clay stove. He covered the top of the stove, which had a cone-shaped chimney and a small opening in the bottom which he now stoked. Her eyes went wide at the beautiful design of the bread. Each loaf was unique, but had a pattern baked into it that looked like a leaf, and they were huge. 

“How much?” she asked the baker. Her mouth watered, and she pulled the few coins she had out of her sachel. He spoke an amount to her in a language she didn’t understand. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Killian reached around her, placing coins in the man’s hand. “A gentleman always treats a lady.” He pulled one of the pieces of bread off the top of the closest stack, ripped off a piece and tapped it against her mouth. She took it and bit into it. Her eyes widened at the rich taste.

“Mmm, this is just bread and it tastes so different from anything I’ve ever had!” She exclaimed and hummed around the mouthful. He popped a piece into his own wide smile, chewing while chortling at her enthusiasm. Bringing Milah to the East Indies had been the best idea he’d had in ages. Just seeing her excitement and awe at the bazaar was enough to make his spirits soar. A woman as beautiful as her deserved to be treated to an exotic life. In that moment, watching her look everywhere she could, taking in as much of her surroundings as possible, he vowed to himself again to show her the world and her value in it.

~~

“Now, we’re going to have some real fun,” he told her as he pulled her by the arm through the crowd. He walked backwards with a mischievous smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised. 

“What on earth could I possibly find more fun than this?” She swept her free hand around her, accidentally smacking a woman wearing a brightly-colored robe. The woman turned and muttered something to her and she gasped, “I’m so sorry!” 

She turned her wide eyes around to Killian and laughed at the incredulity of her, a simple spinner’s wife, running away with her lover to far-off lands. Lands that were so unlike her own, with people who spoke languages she never heard before. She could scarcely catch her breath at the overwhelming marvel of it all. 

They stopped at a stall outside the bazaar, next to a row of clay buildings, and Killian began to speak in a foreign tongue to a merchant next to some wagons and chairs. The sun shone on the pointed domes of the buildings, and Milah looked up at the unique shapes, architecture she never knew existed before standing right in front of her. No more of the drab thatch or hay roofs here. The people looked as if they spent the days in the bright sun, which shone brighter and bigger here than the small town she spent most of her life in. She closed her eyes and breathed in the heavy air, certain that the scent of foreign lands was sweeter than anything she’d ever known. 

Killian looked back at her after paying the palkhi vendor. She was standing with her eyes closed and her porcelain face turned up to the sun, her chestnut hair cascading down her back, wearing bright blue muslin around her shoulders that he purchased because she said the color matched his eyes. Her arms were out and her palms were turned up, as if to catch the sun’s rays. She was delicate and strong at the same time, and in this moment, he found joy in her fierce beauty surrounded by the bustling marketplace. He had been to this port several times over the years, and he had never experienced it with as much delight as he had today with her. For her, the newness was intoxicating and captivating, and he felt nostalgic for his own beginnings as a sailor exploring the world. 

As if she could sense him staring, she opened her eyes and put her arms down at her sides, looking at him with a generous smile. 

“So, sailor, what now?” she asked.

As if on cue, four men walked over to Killian dressed in faded red vests and pantaloons, wearing white half-turbans. He reached out his hand to her and walked over to take hers, raising it high in the air and looking over to the four men.

“This is my lady, and you shall take her wherever she wishes to go.” With that, he looked back at her, eyes gleaming and lips pursed. His dark beard and mustache gave him a roguish look, and his own red vest gave him a devilish air. Behind him, the four men walked around a covered chair and pulled it out into the sunshine.

It was covered in gold and jewels. 

She gasped, covering her gaping mouth with her free hand as he pulled the other to lead her to the palanquin. She began to shake and inhale shaky breaths as she was seated by her pirate, who bowed over her to kiss her hand before placing it in her lap. He backed up, and she grabbed the sides of the chair as she was hoisted up above the crowd. Her eyes darted around at the turned heads and smiles from the people around her, and she looked down to where Killian stood, beaming up at her.

“Oh my God, Killian!” Milah gasped and gripped one side of the chair as she leaned over. Her hair fell over the side and she smiled in exuberance. The palanquin bearers began to move and she sat back, breathing shakily and taking in the world from a new height. She began to laugh and her eyes watered with tears at the wonder that was her life in this moment. She decided not to think about anything she had mourned for the night before. Instead, she pushed only joy in this moment to the front of her mind as she was carried through the town, Killian walking by her side.

~~

“You’re going to have sunburn.”

Killian rubbed a cream on Milah’s tender skin. He had purchased it from an apothecary, saying that it had healing properties. It smelled strong and pungent, but not unpleasant. She enjoyed his hands on her, caressing her shoulders and the tops of her breasts as he applied the medicine. She leaned back into his chest and sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the gentle sway of the rocking ship. They were still docked, but she enjoyed the movement and found it calming in a way land could never be. She felt like a wee babe, now. 

“Did you enjoy your time at the bazaar today?” he asked, turning her chin to place a kiss on her lips. 

“Oh, yes,” Milah’s eyes flew open, “I’ve never experienced anything like that, and I don’t know if I ever will.” She reached up to cup his cheek and stroked his beard. “Thank you again, Killian, for such a wonderful day.”

“Well, the day’s not over yet, love,” he said as he reached back behind him. His coat was laying on the bed, and he pulled something out of the pocket. “Now, no peeking,” he said as he covered her eyes with his hand. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed as he placed something cold and heavy and hard around her neck. He took his hand away and she heard the snick and clasp of something as she reached up and felt –

“Jewels for my beloved,” he whispered into her ear, and she turned around to grasp him. 

“Never – _never!_ I mean – never!” She was suddenly lost for words. There was nothing she could give him in return, nothing she could earn, and yet this man was draping gigantic jewels over her like she was the bloody queen. She could never express her gratitude for his affection; never explain the overwhelming expanse of his love for her and hers for him. She peppered his face with kisses, capturing his lips and holding them there while she ran her hands through his hair. 

“Ah, my beloved,” he broke their kiss and whispered like a caress, sweeping her hair back to admire the gold and crimson jewels around her neck. “Her worth is far more than rubies.”


End file.
